


Showdown

by aralias



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Episode s01e08 Duel, Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 10:31:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2188437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aralias/pseuds/aralias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Duel’ as a late series 2 episode. Blake has several lessons to learn on the way to Star One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Showdown

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this meme prompt: http://b7-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/351.html?thread=156511#t156511 (My thanks to elviaprose for continual encouragement throughout, and to x_los for the same and for the beta.)
> 
> I've written a commentary on the fic (to be read afterwards), because I'm a megalomanic. You can find it here: http://aralias.dreamwidth.org/1998854.html
> 
> This fic is a direct replacement for s02e12 'The Keeper', which never happened. 
> 
> Obviously the episode 'Duel' didn't happen in this universe either. Instead episode 8 of series 1 (written by Terry Nation) probably featured Jenna, Vila and Gan going down to a weird Viking planet to look for crystals (?). (I guess Blake had hurt his ankle or something on another mission, and Cally and Avon had forced him to stay behind and rest.) There they found Travis was trying the incite the locals to join the Federation. Vila played the fool; despite his protests, Gan was hailed as a great warrior and made to fight in many battles; and, with Vila's help, Jenna convinced everyone she was a witch and the leader of her tribe. 
> 
> Fan reaction to this episode ('The Saviour') was generally positive, with many praising the depiction of Jenna and particularly of Gan. 'I didn't really know him before this episode,' one fan wrote, 'but now I think Gan's amazing! And as for Jenna - SHE should be leading the Liberator!' / 'Vila great as usual,' wrote another. 'Lovely to see him using his conjuring skills and developing a real relationship with Jenna and Gan.' / 'It was all right, but Avon wasn't in it very much. 6/10' wrote the Wife and Blake.
> 
> I didn't write that one, though. I wrote this.

**Showdown**

It was useless to pretend he wasn’t getting frustrated – the dim light of the Freedom City alleyway only concealed so much, after all. Blake had been sure Docholli would be the final link in the chain that stretched between him and Star One, that this would be the _final,_ _trivial_ stop before they could all achieve something. The crew were getting restless – no, that wasn’t quite true. _Blake_ was getting restless; the others were beginning to relax. They were all becoming more and more certain that Star One was un-findable, something Avon had snidely pointed out Blake should have realised from the beginning, since even Orac didn’t know where it was.

Perhaps it didn’t even exist. They only had Travis’s word for it, after all. Perhaps the Federation didn't control everything centrally, but had more sensibly split control off into numerous separate systems. That might make sense. But somehow, for whatever reason, Blake was certain Star One was real. It had to be. He knew he was right. He just needed to _find_ it – and keep the others focused. A few weeks ago, Vila had managed to talk them into stopping at a pleasure planet, although fortunately they hadn’t gone for a reason Blake could no longer recall. Cally had even begun suggesting new plans of her own – most recently, she’d mentioned the idea of deviating from their quest to find Star One to perhaps break into the centralised data archives. Fortunately Orac had picked up that tip about Major Provine before Blake had had to seriously consider Cally’s idea, because her idea might, after all, have led to nothing, whereas destroying Star One was bound to have a massive knock-on effect throughout the Federation.

 _Someone_ out there knew where it was. But not Docholli, who had never looked at the brain prints that contained that vital information before he’d erased them, and who was now about to leave, to enjoy his own freedom somewhere else without leaving Blake so much as a clue about the next link.

“Can't you see the man here is getting worried?” the barmaid chided, though she was talking about the space pilot, rather than the revolutionary.

“Docholli,” Blake said, seizing the final opportunity to get something useful out of this meeting, “that last operation - you said it was faked. Does that mean he can still remember?”

“No,” Docholli said, and for a moment he looked haunted. Blake shut his eyes in frustration, but Docholli was still talking. “It was a strange thing. I met him again. Years later. Lurgen – his name was Lurgen – said he’d forgotten, or rather that he’d be _made_ to forget.”

“By the Federation?” Jenna prompted.

“No – at least, I don’t think so. I don’t think they ever caught up with him,” Docholli said. “They can’t have done, or they wouldn’t stil be interested in me. He said he’d gone to this planet – there were two women there, one young and astonishingly beautiful, the other ancient. Those two women _took_ the memory from him – somehow. Said it was too much for one man to know. Lurgen certainly seemed much happier without it.”

“Could he have been lying?” Cally asked.

“Why would he?” Docholli said. “What was I going to do to him?”

“Do you remember the _name_ of the planet?” Blake pressed.

Docholli paused for a moment. “I think it was called,” Blake dug his fingernails into his hand to stop himself reaching out and shaking Docholli to make him talk faster, “ _Amersat_.”

“Yes, well, good luck, Kline,” the barmaid said with a confused but fond smile. “Or whatever your name is.”

Blake raised his teleport bracelet to his mouth. “Liberator, do you hear me?”

A pause, and then Avon’s voice replied almost too smoothly, “Reading you, Blake.”

“Bring us up, Avon.”

*

Of course, although Blake hadn’t realised it at the time, Travis had been lurking in the shadows, and had also heard the name of the planet. Blake had foolishly imagined that Travis had skulked away to lick his wounds – or in this case, to re-attach his arm. He hadn’t even realised Travis was particularly interested in the location of Star One, but presumably anything _he_ was interested in Travis was interested in as well.

The Liberator arrived at Amersat and met Travis’s stolen pursuit ship in orbit. It was a fast ship. Not faster than the Liberator at top speed, but Blake had used up most of his reserves in reaching Freedom City, and had approached Amersat at a stately Standard by Two, which was all they could really afford. As it was, banks one to five were already completely empty by the time Travis’s first blast hit the Liberator’s force wall. With only two banks of reserved power, they had few to no options.

“Logic says we’re _dead_ ,” Avon snarled as Zen and Orac both predicted disaster. 

“Logic has never explained what dead means,” Blake retorted.

He had a dangerous and difficult plan to get them all out of this situation, but before he could put it into action... time seemed to slow. He could still move, but it was as though he was moving through water. Zen was still counting down, but slow, slow, _slow_. From somewhere there came a crystalline ringing, pure and ethereal. Then suddenly the sound seemed to come from inside his own head. It rang so loudly that he could almost feel his teeth shimmering with sound. Blake clutched at his head. There was a white light. Then colours. More colours than Blake had known existed. Then blackness.

When he snapped back to consciousness, the pain was gone. The noise was gone, and apparently so was the Liberator. Somehow he’d teleported down to the planet without realising it. Or had been brought down by something else...

The landscape was barren – nothing grew here, or could grow here. It was dark, although he could tell from the position of the stars that he’d been brought down to the area of the planet that was directly below the Liberator's current stationary orbit. That side of the planet should have been in day. Unless Blake had lost time... How long had it been since the pain and the colours? 

In front of him were two women. _One young and beautiful,_ Blake thought. _One ancient._ _The women who know where Star One is._

“ _Blake_!” Travis shouted, and Blake turned in time to see Travis fire at him with the gun on his ring finger. He threw up his hands, but nothing happened, except that the old woman laughed.

“The weapon built into that hand will not work here, primitive.”

“Nor will brute force, until _I_ allow it,” the younger woman said. The engineer in Blake had the sudden urge to test that pronouncement (a forcefield that disabled weapons was something he understood, but not one that prevented specific humans actions), but that seemed unwise. These women clearly had powers unlike anything he’d ever come across.

“Yes,” the young woman said, as though she’d read his mind. “We do.”

“You’re telepathic?” Blake asked, interested.

“To some extent, we are,” the young woman agreed. “Though it is not a skill we find much use for. It is for you to learn what is in your own mind that concerns us.”

“And who are you exactly?” Blake asked.

“I am Sinofar, the Guardian. This is Giroc, the Keeper.” She turned to Blake, her expression calm. “You have both come to this planet on purpose. Few have done that.”

“Yes,” Blake said. “I’m looking for the location of the Federation computer-complex known as Star One. I’m told you know where it is.”

“Don’t tell him,” Travis said. “This man is a maniac, a _terrorist_. He wants the information so that he can destroy the complex. He’ll kill millions if you give it to him. Do you really want that on your conscience?”

“There’s no need to worry about _our_ consciences,” Giroc cackled.

“They can read minds, Travis,” Blake pointed out. “I don’t think they’re going to be very convinced by your feeble attempt to discredit me.”

“One monster can recognise another, Blake,” Travis said.

“ _I_ _’_ _m_ not a monster,” Blake said.

“Oh, aren’t you? That’s funny. I must have misinterpreted your plans then. Forgive me. What _are_ you going to do when you get to Star One? Tell on, Blake. Tell on.”

Blake ignored him, speaking to Sinofar who continued to watch him serenely. “I want the information so that I can _free_ the planets that are enslaved by the corrupt Federation. I understand the risk this will present to some planetary ecosystems, but I believe that ultimately it would be better to give the chance to live free than die in drugged slavery forever.”

“And what do they think?” Sinofar asked.

“What do who think?” Blake said. 

Giroc laughed. “The idea hasn’t even occurred to him."

“Perhaps not everyone shares your views,” Sinofar explained to Blake, giving the old woman a scowl that implied her behaviour was inappropriate.

Blake chuckled slightly, even though they were discussing something incredibly serious. “I’m afraid that’s an understatement. But in this case I don’t believe most of the people involved are _capable_ of making any sort of decision. _T_ _hat_ is the problem. They’re all drugged.”

“And that means they deserve to _die_?” Travis sneered. “I thought you were so moral, Blake.”

“They deserve the chance to _choose_ ,” Blake said. _“_ _As do we all._ _”_

“Then, you are completely convinced you are right?” Sinofar said. “You are willing to sacrifice these people for your cause. There is no other way.”

“Yes,” Blake said, without allowing himself to hesitate. He would have more sleepless nights in which his brain refused to stop calculating which worlds would be inconvenienced, which worlds would be instantly inhospitable, which worlds the Liberator could perhaps get to in time to help. He knew population numbers for all of those planets that would be most affected. He had made himself learn them, and would never forget them. That didn’t mean it wasn’t the best choice, the _only_ choice.

“There is no other way,” he said, repeating Sinofar’s words back to her.

“And you?” she said, turning to Travis. “Are you also in the right?”

“What do you think?” Travis said. His words, which could easily have been petulant, seemed strangely dignified. “I was exiled as a traitor to the Federation. The very people who should have supported my actions condemned me because it was convenient for them. Unlike Blake, I have no illusions about my choices.”

“Believe me, I have no-” Blake began.

“I just want him dead,” Travis said firmly. “By whatever means necessary.”

“You would destroy the rest of humanity to kill one man?”

“ _Oh_ _yes_ ,” Travis said. “I would. I don’t owe the rest of them anything.”

“What do you mean, _destroy_ humanity?” Blake said.

Travis smiled nastily. “You’re not the only one looking for Star One, Blake. I have some contacts who are very interested in its location – in return, they’ve promised to leave nobody alive in this wretched galaxy, and I believe them. I’d like to see you wriggle out of that one.”

Blake gaped at him in horror. Surely he _couldn_ _’_ _t_ be telling the truth, but there was no reason for Travis to lie, either.

Giroc started laughing again. “I like his spirit!”

“ _This_ man,” Blake said, stabbing a finger at Travis, “is a maniac. You can’t give him the location of Star One.”

“We will do whatever we think is best, Roj Blake,” Sinofar said.

“I’d rather neither of us knew,” Blake said, “than permit such _unthinking, unlimited_ brutality.”

“But more than that, you would like us to bestow the knowledge you seek on you, and leave Travis ignorant,” Sinofar said. “Even after everything you’ve heard.”

“I want to do what’s right,” Blake said.

Sinofar smiled. “Well said.”

“If he believes it,” Giroc scoffed.

“We are going to give you both the opportunity to get what you want and what you believe you want,” Sinofar said. “And to learn the difference between them.”

“And _fight_ ,” Giroc said. She clapped her hands together. “Fight to the death! That's always my favourite part.”

“Excellent,” Travis said as a long machete appeared in his hand and another in Blake’s. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” He swung the weapon to get the heft of it, and Blake grimaced.

“I can see how this gets Travis what he wants. But I’m not sure what I'll get out of it.”

“If you win,” Sinofar said, “and if you still want it, we will tell you the location of the place you seek.”

“If I still want it?” Blake repeated. “You think I’ll change my mind?”

“Perhaps you may,” Sinofar said. “You are the first to visit our planet voluntarily, but others have been brought here to learn the lesson we have to teach. Not all choose to learn it, but others do. You may be one of those.”

“And what _is_ the lesson?” Blake said, trying not to sound impatient. There was little he wanted to do less than fight for someone else’s amusement while they passed judgement on him, but if that was what he had to do for the cause of freedom then he would do it. Just like he did everything else he didn’t want to do.

“If we told you, you wouldn’t learn it,” Giroc said. “You'll have to find out for yourselves.”

“But it concerns death,” Sinofar said. “The death of an enemy, and the death of a friend.”

The image of Gan trapped under the fallen rubble of Control flickered before Blake’s eyes. As usual, he tried to push it away, and then remembered that it was his duty to remember since he’d been the cause of Gan’s death. He remembered. He endured. And once again he hardened his resolve - he would ensure Gan had not died in vain.

“I’ve seen friends die,” Blake said, his voice steady.

“And learned,” Sinofar said. “But not what we would teach you.”

“Enough of this _talk_ ,” Travis shouted. “Let’s get on with this. I’ve waited too long.”

“You are right,” Sinofar said. “The time for talking is over. Now – _learn_.”

*

This time, the teleportation didn’t hurt. Indeed, Blake hardly noticed it. One minute he was standing with Travis and the two women in the dark, rocky abyss; the next he was in a brightly lit woodland glade.

Travis was nowhere to be seen. In fact, it seemed as though Blake was completely alone, outside amongst the trees. In another situation he suspected he would have found it all quite pleasant, but here there was the lingering sense of danger, disgust, and the feeling of being watched. The machete was still in his hand, and clearly Travis was out in the forest somewhere, ready to fight him for his life and the lives of all the living beings in the galaxy. Retrospectively it seemed obvious that it would come to this. _Why_ hadn’t he understood that Travis was a significant threat to the rest of the universe?

 _Because I didn_ _’_ _t think he cared about the rest of the universe,_ Blake thought ruefully. _And it turns out that I was right about that._

Clearly he should have taken Avon’s advice and killed Travis on any one of the many occasions when he’d had the opportunity to do so. But fortunately there was still time to correct that mistake. There was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t come out of this contest better off. Travis was an ex-Space Commander. As far as Blake knew, the only times Travis had left the Domes or his pursuit ship were those times when he'd landed in a populated area and ordered the deaths of the populace. Whereas Blake had spent a lot of time with Uston and Inga on Exbar, and he’d sneaked outside the Domes to attend Freedom Party meetings on multiple occasions. If one of them had the skills to survive here, without any hi-tech weaponry, it was probably him.

As though to prove his point, from somewhere in the undergrowth there came the sound of a twig snapping. Somebody didn’t know how to walk quietly on the forest floor.

Blake pressed himself against the trunk of a tree, hearing the sound of footsteps drawing closer and counting his breaths. On the count of three, he hurled himself around the tree, machete drawn.

“ _Blake_ ,” Avon shouted, his eyes wide with alarm, and Blake forced himself to relax and lower the weapon.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” he demanded.

“I was bored, so I decided to come down, _unarmed_ , for a stroll in this Travis-infested wood,” Avon said flatly. Blake rolled his eyes, and Avon said, “What do you think, Blake? I was brought here by your mystical women to demonstrate the death of a friend. Naturally, I’m thrilled.”

“Interesting choice,” Blake said with a grin he hadn’t intended and which probably wasn’t appropriate in the circumstances.

Avon rolled his eyes. “They didn’t ask me; I would have suggested _Jenna_. Unless, of course,” he smiled, “I’m here as your enemy.”

“I think Travis has that covered,” Blake said, beginning to pick his way through the wood again.

“Yes, I noticed he seemed particularly deranged today. Destroying everybody in the galaxy just to get to you seems both unnecessary and impractical. Poisoning your tea would work just as well.”

Blake twisted back to look at Avon over his shoulder. “You heard that, did you?” he asked, keeping his voice light so as not to show the horror he still felt at the idea that he could easily have been to blame for the death of _everyone_.

“It was beamed onto the main screen,” Avon said. “An effect that was, incidentally, considerably more interesting than the content of your meeting. You remember - that first day, Jenna claimed Zen was telepathic, although I've never seen any other evidence of it until today. Cally says that all of this is being beamed from Sinofar's mind. I’ve made a note to investigate it later – assuming I survive this.”

“You will.”

“How reassuring,” Avon said. “No, my mistake. _Blind optimism_ in the face of almost certain death isn’t reassuring at all. Do you regret not listening to my advice about Travis yet?” 

“No comment,” Blake said.

“Well, that makes it all worthwhile,” Avon said. He stepped on another twig, which cracked loudly and Blake winced, and turned back to him.

“Would you mind _not_ doing that?”

Avon looked genuinely confused. “Not doing what?”

“You’re drawing attention to us,” Blake told him. “If you want something better than blind optimism, try putting your faith in me for a change. Keep your body low to the ground. Step where I step, and put your feet down _gently_ , heel first.”

“You think I need lessons in _walking_?” Avon said.

 _Not more than you need a lesson in manners,_ Blake thought irritably, but he bit back the retort. Avon was demonstrably worried, just as he was, and it wasn’t bringing out the best in either of them.

“Hopefully just the _one_ lesson,” Blake said. “It took me three days to get it right, but I’m sure you’ll pick it up faster than I did.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Avon said. 

“Oh, it wasn’t flattery,” Blake told him. “I’m just a better teacher than my uncle.”  As he'd hoped, the joke of arrogance softened Avon's expression into reluctant condescension. Now he would at least try - which was a start.

Blake was about to move off, and then the sun caught on the silver leather of Avon's top and he grimaced. “And you should probably leave that tunic behind, as well.” Blake himself was perfectly camouflaged in browns and greens, and felt slightly guilty as Avon sourly unbuckled his belt and dragged the tunic over his head. But the black turtleneck underneath was going to be far less noticeable.

“I _liked_ that tunic,” Avon groused as they moved (significantly more quietly) away from it.

“I’ll get you another one,” Blake promised.

“You had better.”

*

"I wonder," Avon said, several hours later, "would they let us go now if you said you weren't interested in the location of Star One any more?"

Blake fought to urge to shift uneasily in the tree branches, but his limbs must have moved slightly because he heard the leaves rustle. "I don't know."

"Don't worry. It was only a hypothetical question," Avon said. "But one I can't help thinking about as I contemplate the prospect of going to sleep in a tree."

"Do you want me to take the first watch?" Blake asked.

"No, I'm not tired yet," Avon said. "Besides, I'm interested to see whether you can manage it."

"Well," Blake stretched and re-settled himself, "prepare to be impressed."

He saw Avon smile slightly before he shut his eyes, and wrapped his arms around himself. They'd been walking almost non-stop for what felt like seven hours, marking out the forest in squares, in the hope of finding Travis. He was going to be able to sleep very easily.

"What will you do when we find it?" Avon asked in the darkness.

"Destroy it," Blake said, without opening his eyes.

"You couldn't think of anything more interesting to do with control of the Federation's computers then."

" _Goodnight_ , Avon," Blake said firmly but not unfondly. After all, Avon had said _we - we will find it._ He readjusted his position against the tree. "Wake me up when you want to swap."

*

He woke to the dawn chorus, his back protesting at the unnatural position it had been forced into. He blinked, hard, several times and then made to stretch - remembering just in time where he was, so he could pull his limbs back in. In the dim light and from so high up, the forest looked almost beautiful. Not quite light enough to be worth moving yet - Blake wanted good visibility in case Travis or Sinofar had laid any traps - but light enough to see a good distance.

Avon was watching the horizon with the same bored expression he got sometimes when Vila spoke for too long.

"What time is it?" Blake asked.

"I don't know," Avon said. "I must have left my watch in my other tree. It seems to be morning, though."

"I can _see_ it's morning," Blake said, feeling oddly irritable. It was typical of Avon to do something nice in a way that made you want to throttle him. Avon would be tired now, which would make him more likely to be a liability. He had also probably not been at his best during the night, and might have missed the signs of Travis sneaking up on them, where a better rested person would have spotted something. Meanwhile Blake felt selfish and awkward to have slept so long while Avon went without. Blake had dragged him out here, but he hadn't forced Avon to stay awake all night. He'd wanted to share the burden of watching. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Your words were," Avon said, "wake me when you want to swap. That never seemed an appealing option."

"You must be _exhausted_."

"Probably," Avon agreed.

"And you're freezing," Blake realised as a breeze ruffled Avon's hair and Avon's fingers dug into his arms, which were crossed over his chest. Anxious to do _something_ for the man who had watched over him all night, Blake began to pull off the flowing leather jacket he'd allowed himself to keep because it matched the green of the forest floor. "Here, take this-"

"I'd prefer not to."

"Don't be a stubborn ass-"

"I'm just exercising my right to choose," Avon said.

" _More_ stubborn," Blake corrected himself. "And more assine than usual-"

He pushed the jacket at Avon, who pushed it back with enough force that Blake's centre of gravity slipped. The foot wedging him place skidded off its knot. He gave an undignified shout of alarm, which was echoed by Avon who had reached out to grab him. Avon's fingers clenched in the fabric of Blake's shirt and Blake grasped Avon's arm and pulled himself back up.

"That was stupid," he said, and began laughing, the laugh of a man who'd escaped death by a narrow margin. Avon gave him a rather sour half smile, which morphed briefly into a real smile, before sinking back into exasperation.

"Not out of place though - this whole scenario doesn't exactly reek of intelligence. A show of primitive survival and barbarity dressed up with mystical mumbo jumbo to disguise it as a morality tale."

"Mm," Blake said, choosing not to be offended as Avon seemed chiefly angry with the situation, rather than with him. He rubbed thoughtfully at his lips. "I wonder what the lesson is supposed to be." He hadn't really thought about it before. Surviving and getting the information about Star One were what mattered, but in the half-light of the dawn, with no sign of Travis, it was an interesting problem to turn over in his mind.

"If it's that we should appreciate the modern conveniences of this century, I've learned it," Avon said. "I'll be nicer to Zen in future. And be sure to appreciate any horizontal sleeping opportunities. Now I've learned my lesson, can we go? What do I have to do - sign an affidavit?"

Blake smiled slightly. "I don't think that's it."

"I don't think so either but it was worth a try."

"Perhaps you should have let me fall," Blake suggested. "That might have ended this. After all, I could hardly learn anything or kill Travis with a broken neck."

"That hardly seems worth it," Avon said. "Even your life is worth more than one or two nights of discomfort."

"Comforting thought," Blake said lightly, though it was more than that. Obviously what he himself had said was a joke - he would always  have expected Avon to save him, based on his own assessment of Avon's character, but it was unexpected and unexpectedly heartwarming to hear Avon actually say it. Words mattered - not as much as actions, but they mattered.

It would probably be best just to leave things as they were, but Blake was the sort of person who always pushed things as far as they could go. Keeping his voice casual he said, "You realise you almost said something nice about me."

Avon considered this. "Well, I'm very tired," he said eventually. "And you'll note," Avon added as Blake tried to hide his smile, "that I only mentioned one or two nights. If it gets to three, I may reconsider."

"We'd better find Travis quickly then," Blake said. "But first... you need to rest. We won't stand much chance of surviving if we do find him and you collapse from exhaustion."

It was logical, and the kind of logic Avon would have difficulty denying. That was mostly cover, though - the real reason he wanted Avon to be able to sleep was that Avon had caught him when he fell, and Avon had watched over him all night without complaint. He reached up to support himself on the branch above. Avon deserved to sleep. "The ground's probably wet, but it'll be soft and horizontal. I'll keep watch."

"A chance to sleep in a ditch?" Avon said dryly. "I've had worse offers, but not recently." But he didn't refuse. And this time he accepted Blake's jacket as a pillow to protect his face from the mud. 

*

Blake let him sleep for what seemed like approximately four hours. That meant it was fully light when the noise of flame woke Avon, gradually and then with a sudden start as his brain realised what he was hearing.  "What the-?"

" _Easy_ ," Blake said soothingly. "I just thought we could use some lunch."

While Avon had slept, he'd built a spit-roast out of sticks. A rabbit had unwisely wandered up to him while he sat tense and watchful, and he'd broken its neck. It was now skinned and skewered over the flame, and had just begun to smell like something edible.

Avon's eyes were wide. "Are you insane? You'll bring Travis down on us."

"That's certainly a possibility," Blake agreed evenly. He turned the rabbit over so that the fire could char the other side. "As a matter of fact, he had the idea first." With a finger, Blake indicated the horizon, where a matching plume of smoke to the one emanating from their campfire rose from the trees. Blake had seen it begin to rise from wherever Travis was hiding (probably ten or so miles distant, if he judged correctly) about an hour earlier.

"That's a trap, of course," he told Avon. "He expects us to investigate and walk into an ambush. Right now he's wondering if I'm stupid... stupid enough to light a fire that gives away my location. Or if I have a trap of my own..."

"And do you?" Avon asked, flatly, as though he knew the answer, which he probably did.

"No," Blake said. He leant forward and pulled the rabbit from the fire. "What I _have_ is breakfast, which is more immediately useful." Swiftly and efficiently, he began to divide the animal at its joints. "I'm also not stupid. It'll take Travis about two hours to walk from where he was to where we are now, and that assumes he sets off immediately, rather than waiting to be sure I haven't laid a false trail. This fire's only been lit for about forty five minutes - if we eat quickly, we'll be long gone by the time he arrives."  He held a piece of rabbit out to Avon and bit into another piece. Avon's eyes flicked down to the meat, but he didn't take it.

"That assumes that _Travis_ hasn't laid a false trail. Presumably he too has been given a companion- the _companion_ could have started the fire, when Travis was already most of the way here-"

Blake shook his head and swallowed the meat in his mouth. "Travis is predictable, if nothing else. That's why I kept him alive so long. What?" he said as Avon raised an eyebrow. "Why did you think I was doing it? _Affection_?"

"Hardly," Avon said. "As Travis himself said, I assumed you were being held back by your morals."

Blake smiled grimly. It had been easy to be a good man in the beginning - when he'd started out, he and Bran had organised passive resistance. Blake had arranged sit-ins, strikes, and led protest rallies. The person he was then would be appalled at the person he was now, though he maintained the same goals and knew they were right. Not taking the actions he'd taken would have made him an evil man, who was able to turn a blind eye to the actualities of the world. But that didn't mean Blake was happy with everything he'd done. He'd sacrificed himself for the greater good - which was the right thing to do, but that didn't mean he could excuse his own actions. He was a killer now - the exact number would have been impossible to count, even if Blake hadn't lost track. Travis could easily have been among them. 

"I know I can beat him," he told Avon now. "That's the only reason Travis is alive. He likes to have the trap, the base. He'll want to ambush us from a position of strength - not sneak up on us in our own territory. That's not his style."

"You didn't predict he would use Star One to destroy the galaxy, either," Avon pointed out, somehow echoing Blake's thoughts from earlier.

Blake looked up at him sharply. Had whatever transmission Sinofar and Giroc had broadcast to the Liberator included a telepathic commentary? It was possible, very possible, but Avon would undoubtedly have mentioned it before now if it had happened. No, it was unlikely that Avon had heard his thoughts. More likely, Avon just happened to be thinking along the same lines Blake was and then voicing thoughts he'd chosen to ignore.

"I _know_ I'm right about this," Blake told him darkly, hoping to shut down the conversation before Avon could make him feel any more awkward.

"That's because you're a fanatic," Avon said. "And naturally you've already gambled both our lives on it. Without asking."

"You were _asleep_ ," Blake said, deciding to avoid any nice gestures towards Avon in future.

"Asleep, not dead. You could have woken me."

"If you're that worried, why are you still here?"

Avon laughed once, bitterly. "Do I have a choice?"

It was clearly a larger and more frightening question than just a question about this fire, although Avon had never asked it before. Blake had assumed that Avon knew he was free to go at any point. Avon had certainly threatened to leave on several occasions. Yes, he had never done so, but always for his own reasons. Blake had _never_ forbidden him to go. He’d never so much as even _asked_ Avon to stay, knowing that Avon would take it the wrong way. If Avon wanted to go, then he should be allowed to do so – even though Blake wasn’t sure what he would do without him. And Avon knew that. He must know that. 

" _Yes,"_ he said firmly.

Avon shook his head. "There's one weapon, and at least one maniac out in the woods.  We stand little chance together. Separate, we might as well hand ourselves over to Travis now. Perhaps I could even slit my own throat to save him the trouble."

It was all right, Blake told himself, trying to keep hold of his temper. Avon was being difficult on purpose. Retorting would be a mistake – they were already at a dangerous tipping point that would turn a few cross words into an argument that would spiral out of control and dominate the rest of the day. That was annoying, but not deadly on the Liberator. Here and now they _had_ to focus on Travis.  

Blake breathed in deeply through his nostrils, and forced himself to smile. "I take it you're not hungry then?"

“No.”

Blake took another bite of the rabbit, but he could barely taste it. He knew he should sit and eat calmly to show Avon he wasn’t affected, but the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling. He could almost feel Travis sneaking up on them, the cold steel of the machete thrusting through his ribs, the crack of Travis’s fist against the back of his head.

What if Travis had been given a mutoid in place of a ‘friend’? Avon clearly only barely qualified under that title, and Sinofar must have had no choice but to be equally creative with Travis, who had no friends at all. A mutoid would make sense, and a modified human _might_ be able to cross ten miles in less than two hours.

What if, Blake thought, he’d been mistaken about the distance of the fire? What if, as Avon pointed out, Travis had changed and he had a new plan of attack? Out with the old, in with the new. He might be playing Blake right now - confident that Blake would misjudge him. He might be almost here. 

Another bite, and then Blake dropped the meat and stood. He stamped impatiently at the fire, and kicked dirt over the embers.

“Let’s go then.” Blake’s mind was already moving ahead to the next few hours. One of Avon’s comments had reminded him that he could probably fashion a pair of sharpened quarterstaffs, so that they would both be armed. Plenty of Avon’s snide remarks were actually good ideas or would inspire Blake to think of something he considered to be a good idea. They would find appropriate branches, hack them into shape, and then set out in the direction of the fire.

Avon was staring down at the remains of the rabbit. “A waste.”

Blake glowered at him, and pulled his jacket up off the floor. “You’re never happy, are you?” he muttered as they moved off into the wood again.

“I wonder why _not_ ,” Avon said sarcastically.

*

They followed a non-direct route towards the line of smoke coming from Travis’s fire. Blake still hoped that Travis would be waiting there, rather than coming out looking for them, but it wouldn’t kill them to be too careful.

The fire was still burning when they arrived. Blake motioned for Avon to be quiet, and Avon rolled his eyes, as though he hadn’t been crashing through the underground only the day before. They both crept forward.

The smoke was coming from a small clearing in the woods. The fire was small, but competently built, and it was surrounded by logs. There was a person sitting on one of those logs, but it definitely wasn’t a mutoid. This person had short dark hair, and she was wearing a large fur coat that had once been a brilliant white, but was now tinged with brown and green. 

“ _Servalan_ ,” Avon hissed in Blake’s ear, and Blake nodded, feeling a bubble of inappropriate laughter rising in his throat. Servalan, the Supreme Commander of the Terran Forces, had spent the night sleeping in a tree.

“She doesn’t look very happy,” he murmured.

“I sympathise,” Avon said.

“ _Travis_?” Servalan called in the direction they were hiding.

Avon grabbed at Blake’s arm, and mouthed, _“_ _He_ _’_ _s in here with us._ _”_

 _“_ _I - know,_ _”_ Blake mouthed back.

 _“_ _What do we do?_ _”_

 _“_ _Keep_ still _._ _”_

“Travis?” Servalan repeated sharply, and this time her head actually turned in their direction.

“ _What_?” came Travis’s voice from somewhere sickeningly close.

“I’m hungry, and I’m losing my patience. _Why_ haven’t you managed to find anything edible yet?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Travis said sarcastically, striding out of the forest and into the clearing. He, too, had used his machete to fashion a pointed staff – the knife itself was tucked into his belt. “ _Perhaps_ , Supreme Commander, it has something to do with the fact that you keep _shouting_ and scaring all the animals away!” By the end of this sentence, he was also shouting, but the damage had presumably already been done.

Servalan remained unruffled, though she did sigh slightly. “The last time I checked, Travis, _berries_ didn’t run away. _Find_ some berries, pick them and bring them to me.”

“There _aren_ _’_ _t_ any berries around here,” Travis said as though speaking to an idiot.

“Then go and find somewhere where there _are_ berries,” Servalan said in exactly the same tone.  “Honestly, Travis, it’s really not that difficult.”

“If it’s not that difficult, then _you_ do it,” Travis said. “Blake could be here any minute!”

“Then you’d better hurry,” Servalan said, wrapping her coat around herself more tightly and turning back to the fire. When Travis didn’t move, she looked back up at him, her eyebrows creased together with annoyance. “Well, go _on_ , then!”

Travis made a wordless noise of frustration and stalked off into the undergrowth, leaving Servalan alone and almost certainly unarmed.

Blake bit down on his lower lip to contain the laughter that was still threatening to spill out. The whole situation was absurd. Servalan was a phenomenally effective military leader, but she was clearly useless in the field.

“Perhaps you should have offered her your rabbit,” Avon suggested.

“Yes, perhaps,” Blake said, glancing back at him. His mind was whirling. If he could destroy or incapacitate both Star One _and_ the Supreme Commander then there would be no saving the Federation from total collapse. Military and bureaucratic power would crumble simultaneously, unable to support each others’ weakness. In another moment he had decided. “Wait here-”

“ _What_?” Avon hissed. He attempted to grab at Blake’s sleeve again, but Blake was already gone and running across the clearing. He dropped the bulky staff, but kept the machete. His conscience prickled at the thought of killing someone unarmed, even if that person was Servalan, but Blake pushed the thought away. In reality it was no different to what he was forcing himself to do regarding Star One. And perhaps he wouldn’t need to kill her if she answered his questions nicely.

At the sound of his feet hitting the floor, she turned to face him. “Blake. What a pleasant surprise. You look so rustic. _So_ ,” she considered, “at home here, _outside_ of the political sphere.”

“I’m adaptable,” Blake said. He gripped her arm through the coat. “Would you come with me, please, Supreme Commander?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Servalan said. “I’m suspicious of your motives, of course, but more importantly I’ve only just sent Travis away. And there is _still_ the chance, unlikely though it may seem, that he will bring back-”

“ _Blake_ , watch out!” Avon shouted from the edge of the clearing. “ _Up_! Look up.”

Blake turned back towards the sound of his voice instinctively – and saw Avon running towards him. Then he looked up as Avon had asked. The trap he’d been expecting was hanging above his head – a spectacularly detailed wooden structure with numerous sharpened stakes pointing down towards him.

There was a thunk and a snap, and it dropped. Without thinking, Blake grabbed Servalan and hurled them both past the fire and out of the way of the trap.

He looked up to see Travis emerging from behind the tree that had supported the trap, and advancing on Avon. Blake began to get to his feet, but Servalan still had hold of his arm and he staggered. Behind him, he could hear the sound of wood hitting wood and grunts of exertion, which meant Travis and Avon must be fighting.

Avon would need his help, Blake thought as he pulled himself upright, his feet sliding on leaves. The odds of Avon knowing how to fight with a quarterstaff were not good, though he was skilled enough at hand-to-hand combat. Perhaps some of that would carry over. Blake felt around for the machete, which had been lost somewhere in his scuffle with Servalan. 

"Looking for this?" she said sweetly, and Blake looked up in horror - in time to see her stab downwards with the machete in the direction of his thigh. 

He knocked the blade out of the way as it came down and rolled away and up. It was probably a mistake to leave the machete, but he’d need the staff if he was going to get anywhere near Travis. It was only a few metres away. Blake sprinted across the clearing, scooping up the staff as he went.

“Avon,” Servalan trilled, and Blake saw Avon turn slightly towards her at the sound of his name. Not much, but enough to distract him.

Travis’s staff slid under Avon’s guard, knocking Avon’s weapon out of the way, and then plunging into his stomach. A twist to ensure maximum damage, and then he yanked the staff back.

Avon’s mouth dropped open. He frowned, as though Zen had just told him something surprising, and looked down at the ragged hole above his waist.

“Ah,” he said.

And then he fell, and Blake could hear himself shouting and feel the sound ripped from his throat, without being sure of what he was saying. Blood roared in his ears.

Travis twirled his quarterstaff confidently round in his hands.  “You’re next,” he said, “ _Blake_ ,” and then he grinned, as though he could think of nothing better than to viciously disembowel Blake’s friends in the middle of a forest.

Somehow that allowed Blake to focus. “That really wasn’t a good idea,” he said, hearing his voice trembling with rage. Travis grinned again and brought the staff, still wet with Avon’s blood, back across his body as Blake began to run towards him again.

The first strike was almost a mistake. Blake lashed out with the staff and was easily blocked by Travis. But then he struck again before Travis could recover, and again and again, harder and harder until eventually Travis’s grip slipped.

The staff dropped, and Blake kicked out at Travis’s legs. Travis stumbled back, and Blake swung the staff again at head level. He heard it crack against the bone as the impact shuddered down his arm. Travis was already off balance, and Blake swept his legs out from under him with the staff. He turned the staff again so that the point faced down.

“Blake, wait. _Wait_ -” Travis shouted, but Blake wouldn’t let himself hear any cries for mercy. Mercy would make him weak. He brought the staff down on Travis’s neck. The skin and cartilage tore easily. Blake pulled the staff back and struck again. This time he felt the point of the staff touch the ground before he pulled back at struck again. Flecks of blood spattered up at him. Travis was dead, he was definitely dead, but it wasn’t enough. He was evil, he needed to be destroyed, he should have been destroyed years ago-

The point of the staff skidded of Travis’s cheekbone, tipping Blake off balance. That jolt reminded him where he was. He remembered he should stop. He stopped. He was breathing heavily. Grief still threatened to overwhelm him.

He looked up from the bloody remains of Travis’s body and saw Servalan standing by the fallen trap. She had the machete in her hand. Then something in Blake’s face made her turn and run into the forest.

The forces of the Federation fled before him, Blake thought.

He took a hot, ragged breath that sounded like a sob, and threw away the quarterstaff. His face ached with misery, all of his muscles tight and clenched with grief. Blake pressed his bloody hands into his eyes and they slid in tears. He took another painful breath, and then something that sounded like Avon’s voice but much quieter and much hoarser said,

“ _Blake_.”

Blake turned his head, and then he half strode, half ran the two steps needed to reach Avon. He’d been sure Avon was dead. How _stupid_ to have wasted those minutes without even checking.

He knelt at Avon’s side, as he had knelt at Gan’s. Too many friends lost in too short a time, Blake thought. _Both of them my fault._

He wanted to reach out now and comfort Avon, as he hadn’t been able to comfort Gan, but he and Avon had never had that sort of free and easy relationship, and never would. A touch would be inappropriate, and the last thing Blake wanted to do was upset Avon now.

There was a large bloody hole in the fabric of Avon’s shirt. It occurred to Blake that if he hadn’t insisted on Avon leaving behind his leather tunic, the blow might have been turned away. He blinked angrily – Avon didn’t need his self-pity, and with that thought in mind he made his voice bracing, though he still couldn’t bear to look at Avon’s face.

“Well, it’s not too bad. If we get you up to the Liberator, you’ll probably be-”

“ _Blake_ ,” Avon said again, his voice crisp with irritation. Instinctively Blake glanced back up at him, as though Avon were on the flight deck, offering an objection to one of his plans. To his surprise, he saw Avon smile briefly. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.”

Blake took another steadying breath. Avon was right. Even if they were given their teleport bracelets back, he wasn't sure that Avon would survive the transfer. It was astonishing that he was still alive. But then Avon had always refused to go anywhere without a fight. It made sense that he'd fight this too, although it was a battle he clearly couldn't win. 

“It’s bad,” Blake said, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’m sorry, Avon. This is all my fault.”

“Well,” Avon said. His chest rose and fell. “You did... have _something_ to do with it, yes.” He smiled again and even began to laugh, before it became too much and he started to cough instead.

“Easy,” Blake murmured. Despite his good intentions, he put a hand on Avon’s arm – and was surprised when Avon gripped him back and pulled him closer.

“But I _did_ have a choice, Blake,” Avon told him, his voice now harsh with pain. “We both know that. I _chose_ to stay with you. I _chose_ -” He broke off with a shudder. His fingers dug deeper into Blake's arm. "You believe that?"

"It doesn't exactly matter what I believe," Blake told him, and Avon laughed painfully.

"Why do you think," he said and breathed in again, the blood rattling in his throat, "I stayed? I stayed because of what _you_ believed, Blake. Idiotic... idealistic... I don't know why it affected me. Except,” Avon said, as Blake smiled, “that you were so obviously... _right._ Righteous. Against my better judgement, I wanted... to be more like that." He frowned. "No. That's... avoiding the issue. More like you. But... with more common sense.”

"Avon _,_ I-" Blake began, but he didn’t know what to say afterwards. He felt like a fraud. He wanted to be pleased by what Avon had said, but he felt as though he was the least right, the least admirable. But it would be an insult to Avon to say that at this point, and what he felt about himself wasn't really important when Avon was dying for something Blake had made him want. He rubbed at his eyes, which were blurring again.

“I'd like to think... I'd make the same choice... again,” Avon said before Blake could think of how his own sentence had finished. “Despite knowing how it ends. I'm probably... deluding myself."

"I think you would have done," Blake told him quietly.

Avon nodded, his eyelashes flickering shut. His mouth was curved at the edges in a final wry smile. He breathed out like a sigh, and failed to breathe in again.

Blake extracted his hand slowly from Avon’s. He pressed his fingers against Avon’s wrist and waited, but there was no pulse. He let the hand drop and tried the artery in Avon’s neck, but he knew he was just prolonging the inevitable. Avon was dead.

He forced himself to look back at the man who had been his friend.

Avon looked peaceful. The blood spattered on his face was not his – it was Travis’s and had fallen from Blake’s cheeks like tears. Blake screwed his eyes shut again in an attempt to stop it, and in the darkness Sinofar’s voice said,

“So – the battle is over.”

Blake opened his eyes. He probably should have been surprised that he was suddenly back at the place he and Travis had talked to the two women – there hadn’t been a jolt or any other sign of teleportation - but he was too tired to be surprised. He got slowly to his feet.

“You fought well, Blake,” Giroc said approvingly.

“I beat a man into a grisly corpse, and caused my friend’s death,” Blake said flatly. “Exactly what part of that do you think is admirable?”

Giroc grinned at him, displaying elderly teeth. “You won. That’s all that matters.”

“That is _not_ all that matters,” Blake said, hearing his voice rising in volume. “Avon is _dead_.”

“Yes,” Sinofar said. As she had during Travis’s outbursts earlier, she seemed completely unaffected by Blake’s emotional display. “We know. And we understand you feel it keenly, but it was a risk he was willing to take. It was his choice.”

“Don’t use his words to justify yourself," Blake said hotly.

“We justify nothing,” Sinofar said. “It is for you to do that. We merely provide the field for you to fight your own battles.”

“Avon could have died plenty of times over the last year,” Giroc pointed out. “He almost didn't make it off Albion - that explosion nearly killed him, it _would_ have killed him without the intervention of the Grant boy. This way Travis is dead too. A life for a life. A good, clean victory.”

“Why did you kill Travis?” Sinofar asked Blake.

An image of the mess of blood and and bone and tendons he’d left in the clearing flared in Blake’s mind. He pushed it away. “I was angry,” he said. “He was dangerous. I acted instinctively.”

“And do you feel less angry now that Travis is dead?”

Blake glared at her - the way he used to stare Avon down sometimes. He did not want to answer and he owed her nothing, certainly not an explanation after everything she'd done, and after she had refused to explain herself.

But Avon had taught him that he should lead by example, not by force. Assuming that he still wanted to lead at all. And besides - Sinofar could read minds. She already knew.

“No,” he said.

“Do you feel safer then?” she suggested.

"No," Blake said.

“Would you like the location of Star One?” Giroc asked. She shuffled forwards, using her stick for balance. “You’ve earned it. We said that you could have it, if you defeated Travis. And he's definitely dead - you saw to that." Another image of Travis’s torn flesh reared before Blake’s eyes.

" _No_ ," Blake said, surprising himself with the forcefulness of his answer. “ _Thank you_ ,” he said with heavy politeness.

It wasn’t even a difficult decision. Until this moment, he hadn't considered that he might refuse when the moment came. He'd been chasing Star One for so long, convinced it was the only way of restoring justice to the galaxy. But the thought of directly trading Avon's life for the information made him feel sick.

Was freedom worth the life of one friend? A friend who hadn't even been that friendly to him most of the time? Objectively, perhaps it was, but Blake couldn’t help but feel that objectivity was here a synonym for evil. Particularly because the 'freedom' he was chasing would entail a massive loss of life when the weather-control systems supported by Star One were suddenly taken offline. He’d made himself remember the numbers, but he had always known he wouldn’t have to watch each person die because of his decision. In the end that had made it bearable - they had been numbers, incalculable numbers. Now he could almost see each ravaged face, and he couldn't do it. 

He was condemning the universe to suffer, but it would have to suffer until the war could be won the right way. There would be another way - he just had to think of it. He was not like Travis. He _would_ not be like Travis. 

“Are you certain?” Sinofar asked. “It is what you came here for.”

"I didn’t like the price," Blake said simply.

Sinofar smiled, a warm, proud smile. "Then we will return that which you paid," she said.

She closed her eyes and stretched out her hands. The world seemed to flicker slightly, and Blake blinked several times, and then stepped back as Avon, alive and irritated, faded into being on Blake’s right, and Travis and Servalan appeared on Blake’s left.

Blake felt himself beaming. “ _Avon_. You’re-”

“Obviously,” Avon said with a scowl. It should have been like ice water on his mood, but all Blake could think was _He_ _’_ _s alive. I haven_ _’_ _t killed him. He_ _’_ _s alive._

“ _Blake_!” Travis shouted, and launched himself ineffectually into the forcefield between them. “I’ll kill you for what you did! I’ll kill you!”

“Death hasn’t improved his temper!” Giroc said, with a chuckle.

“I’m not surprised,” Blake said, feeling absurdly happy. “He wasn’t very keen on me before.”

Travis was almost screaming as he tried to push his way through the invisible wall towards Blake. Sinofar waved her hands across her body, and Travis and Servalan froze.

“You ruin everything,” Giroc said grumpily. “Though he _was_ giving me a headache.”

“In addition to the prize you turned down, you have also won the right to go,” Sinofar said serenely to Blake.

“Now _that_ I won’t refuse,” Blake said. “I need time enough to get my ship away and to recharge the energy banks.”

“They have been recharged,” she told him. “I will see that your ship gets away.” 

“What are you going to do with _them_?” Avon said.

The two women turned towards him, as did Blake. It was the first time Avon had spoken since that single word at his appearance, and the sound of him talking normally was as strange as it was reassuring. Avon was looking at Servalan and Travis. 

“What would you like us to do with them, Kerr Avon?” Giroc asked with amusement. “What would you do with the man who killed you, and the woman who made him do it?”

Avon smiled coolly. “Oh, I have a few ideas.” He stepped up close and said something that Blake couldn’t hear that made Giroc laugh and Sinofar smile.

“It shall be as you wish,” Sinofar said. “For you, too, have learned.”

She closed her eyes and opened her arms, and Blake saw the colours and heard the ringing, though this time it didn’t seem to hurt as much as it had before.

When he could think again, he was back on the Liberator, and Jenna had rushed into his arms. Cally seemed to be attempting to hug Avon, and Vila gathered them both up in a larger hug. Cally kissed Avon’s forehead. Jenna said that next time she saw Travis she was going to shoot him whether Blake liked it or not. Vila said something about watching it all on the Liberator’s main screen in Blake’s ear. Cally said he'd made the right choice. Jenna hugged him again, Vila said not to crowd him, and Cally tried to get around him to treat the injuries Blake hadn’t even realised he had.

By the time Blake had spoken to all of them, feeling safe and fortunate in the presence of the people he loved best, Avon had gone.

*

The door was locked. Blake considered going away, since Avon obviously didn’t want to talk to him, but he found himself knocking anyway. Whatever he’d learned on the planet below, it wasn’t patience.

The door slid open and Avon turned away and walked back into the room. “I suppose you’ve come to talk about what I said on the planet,” he said.

“No,” Blake said. “That is,” he said, settling himself on the edge of Avon’s desk, “I don’t need to, if you’d prefer not to.”

“I would,” Avon said. “After all, there’s nothing to say, is there? You won’t forget it, and neither will the others, who were clearly watching my tearful confession on the screen up here. If you’re lucky, Zen will have recorded the entire thing and you can watch it again later when the nights grow cold. But as you say, you didn’t come to talk about that.”

“No,” Blake said.

“What _did_ you come to talk about then?” Avon asked. “What it’s like to be dead? Not much. Will that be all?”

“I came to ask you whether you’d come back to the flight deck,” Blake said. “The others are all there. I want to get your opinion - I want to get _everyone_ _’_ _s_ opinion - on what we should do next. You all have the right to decide what to do with our lives, and who knows? You might very well have better ideas than I do, though I warn you now – I’ve already thought of several viable, non-violent alternatives to the destruction of Star One, so your ideas will have to be pretty good.”

“Interesting,” Avon said. “I think I must be hallucinating. A side effect of being recently deceased, I expect.”

Blake rolled his eyes, pushed himself off the desk and walked towards the door. “Whenever you’re ready, Avon. _If_ you’re coming.” He pressed the control button and the door swished open.

“Blake - assuming you’re serious, this wouldn't be a bad time to act,” Avon said from behind him, "as I expect Servalan will be gone for some time.”

Blake turned back towards him. “Really?” he said without betraying any particular interest, though he’d been expecting and waiting for Avon to tell him what he’d asked of Sinofar. "Why do you say that?"

“Well," Avon said. "She's gone looking for Star One. I... suggested she and Travis be given its location."

All of Blake’s nonchalance, his belief in the security of their future, fell away. “ _What_?” he demanded.

“Not the _right_ location, of course,” Avon said with a smile that said he’d expected Blake would overreact this way. “The location I suggested is quite far away - I don’t think they’ll discover their mistake for some time. A few months, at the very least. And in the meantime... Space Command will be without a leader. If there was ever a time when we _might_ make a difference, it is now.”

“That sounded almost optimistic, Avon,” Blake said. He took a step forwards. “So you _are_ going to join us then? You don’t have to. It’s entirely up to you. I could set you down on the nearest pleasure world, if you like. You don’t _have_ to be part of this any more. It’s your choice.”

“I know that,” Avon said sharply. He stared hard at Blake, as though making sure this wasn’t a joke, and Blake held his gaze. Then Avon smiled and shook his head ruefully. “Lead on, then, Blake.”


End file.
